


Love Endures

by Juli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juli/pseuds/Juli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have to admit, I kind of like taking care of you for a change.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Endures

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let the title fool you, this is not a fluffy or romantic story (at least not romantic in the traditional sense). Please pay attention to the tags and I'll further caution that, if you're used to the lighter style that I normally use, this is not characteristic of other stories I've posted.
> 
> Originally posted May 21, 2007

He looked out the window, long having lost the ability to drive. The lights on the country highway they were on were few and far between, but whenever they passed one, his eyes would track it until it was gone and only unrelenting nighttime remained. His eyes were always dry and staring at the light was slightly painful, but he did it anyway. His mind was too sluggish to try and reason out why.

“Okay, we’ll make it into Indiana by dawn,” his brother’s words were quick, almost faster than the Impala, but high in tone and completely unlike the Chevy’s deep rumble. “There’s an old hunting cabin there that Dad told me about once. We’ll hole up there for a while. Won’t that be nice and romantic? Just me and you and no distractions.”

Dean shifted in his seat and Sam’s eyes darted over to him. His younger brother grinned when he saw he had Dean’s attention. “You getting restless, babe? Hungry, maybe?”

At the other man’s words, he became aware that a building sensation had crept up on his muted awareness. Sam was right, he was hungry. 

“Ung-y,” he replied. Speech was rapidly becoming beyond his ability too.

“All righty, then, let’s get you a snack,” Sam stated. “Good thing I held something back.” He shot Dean a tender smile. “I have to admit, I kind of like taking care of you for a change.”

It was wrong. It was damn wrong for Sam to be taking care of him, but Dean didn’t protest. He couldn’t in his diminished state and, besides, if it made Sam happy, then so be it.

The part of Illinois that they were driving through was full of farms and fields. Sam pulled the Impala off into a pasture of young soybean plants. The field was fairly level, but sloped down a small hill the further they got in. It would be hard to see them from the highway, no doubt why Sam had chosen it. In the age of industrial agriculture, it wasn’t a family farm and there was no one close by. 

“You stay there until I come around to help you,” Sam instructed as he put the car in park. “I don’t want you to try and get out yourself.”

Dean made a jerk of his head which was his version of a nod. He was still fast, very fast, and strong, but his fine motor skills were a thing of the past. He waited until Sam got out and came around the front of the car. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Sam said cheerfully as he opened Dean’s door.

Dean concentrated as he moved his legs and then large, strong hands were under his arms, lifting him. Sam kept his grip, the warmth seeping into Dean’s comparatively cold flesh, until Dean had his feet underneath him.

“Better?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded. “-‘ood.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, you’re good all right.”

He swooped in for a kiss and Dean stood, mesmerized, as his brother’s lips descended. Sam’s mouth was a furnace, a wet one. Dean groaned and pressed forward into that moist heat. His own mouth was always dry, dry as a bone.

Laughing, Sam pulled back. “Maybe later, babe. We’ll get some food into you and then, after we reach the cabin, maybe we can do some fooling around.”

Dean stood and watched as Sam got some tools out of the backseat of the car. With a shotgun carelessly perched over his shoulder, Sam unlocked the trunk and looked down at the contents. “Hey there, Gordy.”

Gordon Walker was trussed up tight, contorted into a position that must have been torture for him. In fact, Sam had apologized as he and Dean had stuffed him in. The weapons cache was still in the compartment underneath, so there was little room for other cargo. It’d been a necessity; it wasn’t like they could tote Gordon around in the car, where he could be seen. Besides, he’d get blood on the upholstery, Sam had explained, and Dean hated that.

With Dean’s assistance, Sam pulled Gordon from the trunk and placed him on the ground. He propped the captive up against the Impala before removing his gag.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Gordon rasped, his voice sounding as though his mouth were as dry as Dean’s felt. “I was right about you.”

Sam frowned and replaced the gag. Gordon’s glare was piercing, but Sam ignored it. He sighed as he glanced up at his brother. “He’s not exactly a happy meal, is he?”

Dean didn’t answer. As slow as he’d been to realize he was hungry, now that it was almost time to eat, he could think of little else. He shifted his weight from side to side and his fingers curled. “Uuuuhhhhh.”

Standing, Sam wrapped a hand around the back of Dean’s neck. “Calm down.” He considered his brother carefully. “I know I said a snack, but I think you need more. You look like you need a full meal, babe.” He kissed Dean on the nose and turned back to the bound man.

Sam kicked Gordon in the head, expressionless as the other hunter groaned and fell to the side. Sam first slit the duct tape holding Gordon’s left arm to his side and then he slit the wrist itself. Dean moaned and shuffled closer.

“Just a taste,” Sam cautioned him. “Just to tide you over until the rest of it's ready.”

Dean’s lips closed over Gordon’s wrist and the rich, warm taste of blood flooded his mouth. Sam stood close, looking on in satisfaction even as he kept an eagle eye on his prisoner. Dean slurped as he drank and Sam shook his head fondly.

“You are such a slob when you eat.”

Far too soon, Sam took Gordon’s wrist away.

“Noooo. . . .” Dean protested. He felt like he’d had the barest of tastes, but even that had helped him be capable of articulating a little more clearly.

Sam just shook his head. “You’re gonna have more, just wait a minute.” He knelt next to Gordon, who was glassy-eyed and barely conscious. “I’d say I’m sorry about this, but you tried to destroy Dean. That pretty much nullifies whatever sympathy I might otherwise have for you.”

With the exception of Gordon Walker being nominally conscious during the beginning of the procedure, the rest of Sam’s preparation of Dean’s meal was routine. The blood was working in him, but Dean remained standing quietly while Sam took the top of Gordon’s head off with judicious application of a crowbar. It didn’t take long until Sam had scooped out the other hunter’s brain and was presenting it to Dean.

“Here you go,” Sam offered up the bloody lump to Dean, its gray matter showing through as the blood slowly dripped off.

Dean stared at it for a moment and then reached for it. He used both hands to shove of much of the still-warm brain into his mouth as would fit, making grunting noises as he practically inhaled it. Sam started the clean-up as Dean ate. By the time he’d swallowed the last bite, Sam was done and leaning up against the car, watching.

“Man, you are a mess.” Sam complained affably when Dean started licking his fingers. “Come here.”

Sam had a bottle of water ready and helped clean Dean’s hands off. “Let’s hit the road, one more hour and we can rest.”

Dean let himself be manhandled back into the car. In short order, the Impala was back on the highway, speeding away from the corpse cooling in the field.

The best and worst part of a full meal was that it made it easier to think. In the beginning, Sam had hypothesized that ingesting living brain tissue stimulated his own. Dean didn’t know if that was right and didn’t really care. All he knew was that thinking meant remembering and that was a mixed blessing. Inevitably, his newly revitalized mind turned back to the beginning of his personal hell.

He’d died in a battle with the demon, of course. His father had perished as well, but of the two of them, Sam had only resurrected Dean. Resurrected, however, wasn’t exactly the right word. It was more like reanimated; Sam’s technique had left a little bit to be desired. It hadn’t taken Dean long to realize what kind of abomination he’d become. He’d immediately wanted to end his existence, but Sam had begged him not to.

“I’ll be alone, Dean,” Sam had begged, on his knees in front of his brother and pleading with those soulful eyes of his. “Please, Dean. The demon’s still out there. . . Mom, Dad, and Jessica are gone. . . you’re all I have left. I need you.”

Even dead, Dean couldn’t deny his brother and so he became the kind of monster that they’d spent their lives hunting.

In the beginning, Dean had only fed on criminals. Even so, he couldn’t help but weep afterwards and Sam always held him, murmuring how much he needed Dean until his brother quieted. Gradually, the Winchester brothers found themselves shunning the daylight hours. Not because Dean had an aversion to sunlight, but because his skin took on the gray, mottled look of the undead. Sam told him it didn’t matter, that all that was important was that they were together and Dean let himself believe. Just as he let himself be convinced when Sam told him it was okay to feed on non-criminals when bad guys were scarce, explaining that the greater good was far more important.

The hunting, if anything, became easier. Stronger than he had been in life and immune to many supernatural phenomenon, Dean was a match for a lot of the paranormal nasties that they came up against. He was, simply put, nastier than many of them. Having just fed on another hunter, though, Dean found himself wondering exactly when that had become a good thing. Sam’s abilities also seemed to be developing. His visions didn’t cause him as much pain and the telekinesis Sam'd first used against Max Miller had made a reappearance. They hadn’t found the demon yet, but Dean was beginning to think, when he was well-fed enough to make thinking possible, that it was running from them for a change.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Sam commented.

Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam’s eyes were locked on the road, but Dean could tell that he was being studied.

“’-Unter,” Dean managed to mumble. “N’right.”

Sam’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “He and his little gang were trying to destroy you, Dean. After all the good you’ve done, all the people you saved. I couldn’t let that happen.” He glanced at Dean. “That makes him just as bad as anything we’ve hunted, just as evil as the others you’ve fed on.”

“W-w-rong, ‘ammy,” Dean protested.

“Would you have preferred that he take you from me?” Sam’s voice rose. “You promised you’d stay with me, Dean. I need you, babe, I need you so much.”

A memory rose in Dean, of his five year-old brother eating the last of the cereal, but holding out the toy prize for Dean, love shining in his little boy’s face. Superimposed over that image was the one from a short time ago, of Sam holding another man’s brain in his hands and offering it to his brother. Dean knew he should see the man his brother had become, but all he could see was the little boy and the love that had remained constant.

“T-gether, ‘ammy.” Dean assured his brother. “F’rever.”

“Good,” Sam’s smile was breezy and carefree. Dean didn’t exactly find the sight of it comforting.

In his current state, Dean didn’t really get tired, but he was mentally exhausted by the time Sam guided the Impala down the dirt road that led to the cabin. Dealing with memories was hard work. Sam chattered on, seemingly unaware of his sibling’s inner battle. For a man who claimed not to be able to exist without Dean, he seemed somewhat oblivious. Dean felt guilty about that. It was his insistence that he feed as little as possible that doomed Sam to having to live with his less aware self. No doubt Sam was just used to filling up all the spaces in conversation on his own.

“Here we are,” Sam stated happily as he stopped the car in front of the cabin. “Home sweet home, at least for a little while.”

Dean waited impatiently until Sam came around to help him out of the Impala. It was a rundown place, looking like it’d seen far better days. Trees were growing all around it, but there was a small clearing too. A blue tarp covered the ground near the weathered structure, probably protecting a woodpile.

It was lonely and private, normally two key features common to anywhere the Winchesters liked to stay. But something felt. . . off. Dawn was already starting to paint the horizon, but the birdsong that should accompany it was missing.

It was almost anticlimactic when Bobby Singer came sauntering out of the cabin. “Hey there, boys.”

Sam had been getting their duffle bags out of the back of the car, but whirled at the familiar voice. “Bobby, didn’t know you’d be here.” 

His gaze darted back and forth between Bobby and his brother. . . with good reason. The Winchesters had steered cleared of other hunters, for obvious reasons. Gordon Walker tracking them down had been an unpleasant surprise. Before that, they’d assumed that the rest of the hunting world was unaware of Dean’s transformation.

“You’re looking a little peaked there, Dean,” Bobby drawled. “You feeling all right?”

Dean shuffled nervously as Sam’s breathing started to quicken. This was bad, this was very bad. Gordon Walker had been another predator, but Bobby was family.

“Why don’t you answer him?” Another voice came, this one from behind them. 

Sam whirled, but Dean didn’t turn. He didn’t dare have both of them give Bobby their back.

“Ellen,” Sam’s voice was strained. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Is it?” Another voice, this one belonging to Pastor Jim and Dean moaned in despair. Jim’s gentle tone was dangerously deceptive. “Son, I think you know why we’re here.”

“No, I don’t know,” Sam replied, he pushed Dean behind him as he tried to face all three hunters down. “You better explain.”

There was a rustling of leaves and then more hunters stepped out of the woods.

“Do you think we’re stupid, Sam?” Caleb’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Just how many brainless bodies did you think we could ignore? We’ve been tracking you two for a while now. Funny how your brother never seems to be out and about in daylight anymore.”

“You’re not taking him from me,” Sam gave up the pretense that he didn’t know what they were talking about and Dean shivered at the menace in his baby brother’s voice.

“Now, Sam,” Jim walked forward, his hands outspread as though he were approaching a wild thing. “Everyone here knows you love your brother.”

“But dead things should stay dead,” Caleb stated bluntly. “You shouldn’t have messed with the natural order, Sam. That’s not right.”

“Dean is a hunter,” Sam grated out, getting increasingly jumpy as several of the other hunters moved closer. “He’s done a lot of good, he deserves another chance.”

“Tell that to Gordon Walker,” Ellen stated. “Or are you going to try to tell us that he’s still alive?”

“I’m not Gordon Walker’s keeper,” Sam retorted. 

Dean remained silent, knowing that even with his recent meal that he wasn’t eloquent enough to try and convince the others. They had a small window of time. The better the light got, the better their former friends would be able to see him and know that they were right. He put his hand on the small of Sam’s back and could feel the tightly leashed tension in his brother’s body.

“ ‘ammy. . . .”

“They’re not taking you from me, Dean,” Sam stated coldly. “God help them if they even try.”

That was what Dean was afraid of.

“Is this half life what you want for your brother? Is this existence what your father would want for either of you?” Jim coaxed. Dean winced. He’d managed not to think of his father and what John Winchester would think of what his sons had done.

Jim reached the blue tarp and pulled it aside. Instead of a woodpile, it had been covering a dark hole in the ground, one that was full of an unnatural blackness. “Dean’s earned his rest, don’t you think?”

Dean felt its pull. It wasn’t a hole, after all, but a portal. Where it led, he didn’t know, only that he sensed the promise of oblivion. 

“Sam, honey, it’s time,” Ellen spoke softly, gently. “You have to let your brother go now. It’s what’s best for him.”

“No!” Sam screamed. “You won’t take him from me.”

The hunters had come armed for a fight. Dean was undead, which meant he was strong, fast, and damn well unstoppable. They knew Sam would defend him; they just didn’t know how well. In their focus on Dean, they’d failed to account fully for Sam and it was their undoing.

Sam’s telekinesis didn’t make any noise, but its power was obvious nonetheless. Guns went flying as if they were yanked from lax fingers and hunters fell to their knees, clutching their heads. Cries came from all around as Sam wreaked havoc on his enemies.

“He’s all I have left,” Sam continued in a deadly tone. “I love him and I won’t lose him.”

“ ‘ammy. . . .”

“No, Dean,” Sam shook his head as Dean lifted his hand in a silent plea. “They’re just like Walker, they want to destroy you. I can’t let that happen.” 

Sam left Dean’s side to stalk over to the closest hunter, Caleb. “No one is taking him from me.”

As Dean watched, blood started leaking from Caleb’s nose and ears. The man grimaced, but managed to remain silent at first. As his body started to convulse, though, he cried out. Sam watched implacably until the death throws were over. “Who’s next?”

Already his mind was growing fuzzy, the benefit of his recent meal lapsing. Dean tried to hold on to the image of that little boy, offering him the toy from the cereal box as though he were offering the world.

“ ‘ammy. . . .” Dean shuffled a few feet away.

Sam looked up, tears in his eyes. “If I spare them, they’ll just come after you again. Their kind never learns.” He walked towards Dean, the other hunters momentarily forgotten as he followed his brother. “Dean, would you really want to leave me?”

Dean stopped and tried to smile. Concentrating fiercely, he managed to get his desiccated tongue to help him enunciate clearly. “No, Sammy. Together. . . forever.”

And, wrapping his arms firmly around his brother, Dean Winchester stepped back into the portal to oblivion, taking his brother with him.

~the end~


End file.
